


Small Acts

by Meri



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, post-HBP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2010-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 16:46:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meri/pseuds/Meri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Many of us spend our whole lives running from feeling<br/>with the mistaken belief that you can not bear the pain.<br/>But you have already borne the pain.<br/>What you have not done is feel all you are beyond that pain.</em><br/>Kahlil Gibran</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Acts

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: JKR owns the world. I'm just borrowing the characters. I promise to give them back soon.
> 
> Note 1: Written for the 2006 Snarry Games. Team Romance. Prompt: courage.
> 
> Note 2: Thanks to my betas Regan_v, snakeling, bethbethebeth, and maaseru

Grimmauld Place was quiet, tense. Harry was expecting someone. Not a guest, exactly. Someone who might throw his household into chaos. Someone he had not expected to see again, let alone welcome into his home.

The floo sounded. Harry turned to watch Severus Snape step out of the fireplace as if he owned it, dusting the ash from his threadbare robes.

Behind him, Harry heard Ron snort. But fortunately, Ron didn't say anything else. Harry had wrung a promise from both Ron and Hermione -- who were staying with him -- that they would attempt to treat Snape without contempt.

For one second, there was complete silence.

Then, Harry inclined his head. "Snape. Welcome to my home."

Snape returned the gesture. "Potter. Thank you for the invitation."

Neither of them were going to mention Snape had no place else to go. Not if he wanted to live beyond the day or two it would take Voldemort to find out where he was.

"Why don't we go into the kitchen?" Harry indicated for Snape to precede him. "I'm sure you must be hungry. I've made some sandwiches, and there's juice and tea in there as well."

"That would be welcome." Snape went through the doorway slowly, without giving any indication that it had probably been several days since he'd eaten anything. The only reason Harry knew was that Kingsley had mentioned Snape had had to hide before he could get to his contact point.

Harry jerked his head towards Ron. "Come on, then."

"Are you sure you want him here?" Ron sounded like the idea bothered him more than he'd said when they had discussed it.

"Where else can he go?" Even with Dumbledore dead, Grimmauld place was still under his Fidelius, and it made it one of the few places Snape would be safe. He wouldn't be discovered here.

Ron sighed. "Must be tough for him to have been with You-Know...Voldemort for all this time."

The sympathy was surprising from Ron, but Harry agreed with the sentiment. "It's been a hard year."

"For all of us, mate," Ron said, and his voice cracked. In the past year, Ron had lost Ginny and his father to Voldemort's skirmishes. Charlie had been maimed.

Even though they hadn't been dating any more, Harry had been devastated by Ginny's death. Arthur's death following so closely on her heels had all but done everyone in the family in, Harry included.

Harry and the Weasleys had gone on, because that's what they had to do. But sometimes it was only the force of Harry's will that got him out of bed in the mornings.

"Yeah, Ron. I'm hoping Snape is going to be reasonable about things." Harry didn't really believe it, but he didn't have the energy to fight with him. What little energy he had, he wanted to focus on killing Voldemort.

"He'd better, or I'll be having a word with him myself. I don't care what he's done." Ron's tone held a very faint threat.

Aside from helping them find the Horcruxes, Snape had warned them about the attack on the Weasleys, whom Voldemort wanted to make an example of. Arthur had been caught in the crossfire, but no one else had died.

By now, they all knew that Snape's killing of Dumbledore had been on Dumbledore's orders. Harry had seen the Pensieve memories that Dumbledore had left. Seen images of Snape begging Dumbledore not to make him do it. Seen the tears in Snape's eyes and the ones on his cheeks when Dumbledore would not back down. When Harry had been done viewing everything, he'd felt savaged.

Dumbledore wasn't easy to refuse. Even if he were dying, and even if he was forcing the issue, what did it take for Snape to kill someone he loved as much as he clearly loved Dumbledore knowing he would never be forgiven for it?

Harry had a lot more sympathy for him now than he'd had last year when it had happened. But the world had changed a lot in that time.

When Harry and Ron came into the kitchen, Snape had already begun to eat a second sandwich from the platter that Harry had prepared. A jolt of pity went through Harry. He knew what it was like to be that hungry.

Hermione was working on a potion. "Please tell us what happened?" she asked as she stirred the caldron.

"What are you making?" Harry asked, sitting at the table, and reaching for a sandwich.

"A healing remedy." She counted the stirs and then reversed her motion and counted again.

Snape stood, and looked down at it. "Needs a bit more milk thistle."

"You can tell just from looking at it?" Ron asked, clearly surprised that Snape would comment.

"Of course he can." Hermione dropped the milk thistle into the brew and stirred it more. "Thanks."

"How did he discover what you were doing?" Harry asked. Kingsley Shacklebolt had gotten in touch with Harry a week before to tell him that Snape was about to be found out. As much as he'd have rather not have Snape in his home, Harry couldn't refuse.

At Harry's polite tone and nearly friendly manner, a puzzled look crossed Snape's face, as if he could not quite believe it.

Until Snape said or did something unforgivable -- and Harry expected it to happen fairly quickly -- he was going to be as polite as he could be. Fighting with someone in his home was abhorrent to Harry. He'd lived through too much of that already. And this place had seen too much darkness for too long to actively encourage any more of it.

Harry wasn't going to do or say anything rude. Not unless Snape started it first.

"Despite what happened last year, the Dark Lord hasn't ever completely trusted me. I arranged with Draco Malfoy --"

"Malfoy! That traitorous prat!" Ron sputtered.

Snape glared at him. "Your expertise in identifying traitors is such that you'd know one if you saw one?"

Ron had the grace to blush. "What did Malfoy do?"

"We arranged that he would denounce me, but give me enough time to flee," Snape said, without any inflection in his voice.

"I'm assuming he's the other spy?" That it was Malfoy surprised the hell out of him. By the look of them, Ron and Hermione as well.

"Yes. The destruction of the last Horcrux made him suspicious of me. We hoped that this will further Draco's position with the Dark Lord." His voice was low, calm, but Harry could see the tremor in his hands.

"I told Kingsley that you could stay here as long as you'd like. And you can. You'll be safe here." He meant it sincerely. As long as Snape behaved decently, Harry would allow him to stay.

"But?" Snape said, and his tone was wary.

"No buts."

"Will you tell us all you know of...." Hermione took a deep breath. "Voldemort."

"I know where he is now. Though I do suspect he'll move. I have an idea of where he's likely to go." And he looked at Harry, his dark eyes boring into him. "And I know that you're not nearly ready to meet him."

It wasn't a question. And Harry wasn't going to argue. It was clear to him that he needed Snape's help. "Will you teach me?" It wasn't nearly as hard to ask as Harry had thought it would be.

"Are you willing to learn? To take instruction from me?" Snape mimicked Harry's tone exactly.

"Yes." And Harry meant it. He might still dislike Snape, but if Snape would teach him, then Harry would learn. Given the dire circumstances, there wasn't a lot of choice.

Snape inclined his head. "Fine. Tomorrow morning. 8:00 am. Sharp. I'll tolerate no tardiness, nor laziness." He paused for a moment, and then looked at Hermione and Ron. "It wouldn't hurt for either of you to be there as well."

Both Ron and Hermione nodded. Ron looked especially pleased to be included.

"We'll be there," Harry promised. "I've got a room ready for you on the second floor, it's two flights up from here. Second door on the left."

"Very good." Snape stood. "I do appreciate your hospitality."

"You're welcome." Harry meant it sincerely. "And thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm going to work you like you've never been worked and then make you do it again." Snape made it sound like a threat.

If Harry were going to face Voldemort with any hope of survival, then he'd have to be ready to do what was necessary. "I'm ready."

"No, you're not. But when I'm done with you, you will be." Snape met his eyes. "If you apply yourself."

"I will."

Ron sank into the sofa of the sitting room, letting out a sigh of exhaustion that seemed to fill the room. If Harry had had the energy, he would have smiled at him. But as it was, he could only sit slumped in the chair. Snape had more than made good on his threat of working them hard.

"You know, if he works us to death, we won't be able to help you fight You -- Voldemort." Ron's eyes were closed. "I don't think I've ever been this tired before."

Harry could only agree. "Everything hurts, too. On the other hand, I feel so much more confident than I did even two weeks ago."

"Did he say how long this was going to go on? I'm not sure how much more I can take." Ron's speech had started to slur. A sure sign he was falling asleep.

As much as Harry needed sleep himself, letting Ron do it there would be a bad idea. "Don't fall asleep. You'll be so stiff in the morning you won't be able to move."

One of Ron's eyes opened, and he scowled, or at least it looked like a weary attempt. "Blimey, Harry, you sound like Hermione."

"In this case, she'd be right. And she's got it worse than us. He's making her brew, too." Harry couldn't imagine doing anything after a day of dueling, but Hermione was spending every night with Snape, brewing potions they needed.

"Serves her right for being so damned smart." With a groan, Ron pushed himself up. "I need a hot shower."

"Me too." Harry didn't want to move, and he was in just as much danger of falling asleep, too.

After Ron left, Snape came in, freshly showered, and not looking anywhere near as tired as he should have done. Certainly not as tired as Harry felt.

"What? I feel your eyes on me, Potter." Snape was at the bookcase, looking at the titles.

"Why aren't you tired?" Harry resented that he wasn't. That it all seemed so easy for him. But not enough to do anything about it.

"I could say that you were a lazy brat, and that you'd never worked hard in your life. But I won't." He said a lot of things like that lately, things that were insults, but the way he said them took the sting out.

Harry didn't understand why he bothered in the first place. "You know, you could just insult me, and be done with it."

"No. I can't. I'm living in your house. I have some respect for that." Snape sounded so superior right then, and really, it should have annoyed Harry more than it did. Maybe he was just too tired to care.

The rules of Wizarding hospitality were well known, and Harry wasn't sure why it surprised him so much that Snape followed them. "Why aren't you tired?"

"Because I use the minimum amount of power required for each spell. I know just what to use to make it work and no more." Snape's tone said Harry should really know that already.

Maybe he should have done. But the implication scared him. "So, I'll be exhausted in ten minutes and Voldemort can just wait me out and kill me?"

Snape gave him a long-suffering look. "Don't be ridiculous. The practice and constant drilling will make you ready for him. You'll be faster, and you already are more powerful."

"Was there a compliment in there somewhere?" If Harry wasn't mistaken, he was fairly sure he'd heard one. And that would be a first.

"Surely not. I don't want to feed your over-grown ego." Like before, there was no bite behind the words. And there certainly was a glint of amusement in Snape's eyes.

"Right." Harry yawned.

Snape had a faintly approving smile on his face. "Worn out?"

"We've worked harder than we've ever had to before. Each day it seems to get harder, not easier." There was too much whine in Harry's tone and Snape would no doubt comment on it.

But Snape only shook his head, his expression exasperated. "With good reason. I'm surprised -- though I suppose I shouldn't be -- that you've risen to the challenge."

The way he said it annoyed Harry. "Did you think I wouldn't do it? With so much at stake? Did you think that I'd just give up because it was too hard?"

"Well, considering your past performances, why wouldn't I think that?" Snape's tone had hardened, too.

Harry wasn't going to take that from him. "Considering your teaching skills, what do you expect?"

Snape's eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned into a straight line. "I think my teaching skills are adequate for you. You never appreciated what you were taught. You were always more interested in your latest adventure than you were in what I had to teach you."

"My learning skills are perfectly acceptable. It's your attitude that needs work," Harry hissed, his anger starting to rise.

"I'm not the one who started this. You brought it up." Snape's harsh tone had eased somewhat, but his glare was intense.

And worse, he was right. Harry inclined his head. "I did at that. I apologize."

The look of shock on Snape's face was worth the apology. "You've proven to be an adequate student."

"Two compliments in one day. I think you're Polyjuiced." Harry raised his wand. "Finite Incantatem."

Snape laughed. Honestly laughed out loud. Harry was so stunned that he laughed, too.

Even after he'd got rid of Mrs. Black's portrait and Kreacher, there were a lot of things that Harry still hated about Grimmauld Place. And the thing he hated the most was that it was dark. No matter how much light he spelled into the rooms, it was always gloomy, shadows lurking in every corner.

He sat in the kitchen, drinking tea, and wishing it was light out. Not that it would matter, the kitchen had one small window, but somehow knowing it was daylight made it a little easier to bear the dark.

Someday, when he had the time to devote to it, he'd spell all the windows bigger, or perhaps just spell them to show the outside light.

A noise made him look up. Even after all these months, it continued to startle him to have Snape waltz into the kitchen and put water into the pot for tea.

"Potter," Snape said, waving his wand at the teapot.

"You know, I think it tastes better when the water boils naturally."

"That makes no sense at all. How the water is heated does not matter." Snape's teapot whistled and he poured. "The aeration of the water is all that is required."

Harry didn't buy it. But he wasn't going to get into an argument over it. Not that he and Snape argued much. They mostly snapped, and then backed off.

"You don't agree?" Snape raised an eyebrow, and Harry wasn't sure if he were spoiling for a fight or not. It would be just like him to lull Harry into a false sense of security and then move in for the kill. Except of course that he hadn't yet and he'd had more than ample opportunity. Even taking into account wizarding etiquette, it still confused Harry.

"I don't care. It was just a comment." There were things he'd argue about, if they came up, but tea didn't seem worth the bother.

At his reticence to argue, Snape seemed to pull back as well, and then sipped his tea, ignoring Harry.

"You've changed." Even if he did appreciate the change, Harry wasn't going to trust it. Not yet, anyway. It had only been a few months. And that wasn't long enough to know if it were true or not. Snape was an accomplished actor after all.

Except that the look on Snape's face wasn't closed off. He looked....Harry wasn't sure, but it made him want to believe what he was being told.

"Yes, I have," Snape said, quietly.

"Why?" Harry was curious and wondered if Snape would talk about it.

That got Snape to look up. His eyes flashed with irritation, but his tone didn't show it. "Why have you changed?"

Harry would have said he hadn't, but that was a lie. Too much had happened. Too many losses. Too many hurts that were only half-healed, if at all. "I've seen too much in the last year not to have done."

"And I have as well."

"What?" Harry could not believe his own audacity in asking. But it was important for him to know.

"Would you like me to describe some of the things that the Dark Lord has done to his victims? Some of the atrocities he's perpetrated on people who had done nothing more than been born magical?" Snape's sneer was ugly, but it wasn't focused on Harry. It was clear that he was disgusted by what he'd seen.

Harry shuddered. He could well imagine it. "No. I've seen enough of it. Too many of my friends and friends' families have been killed. Some horribly."

"Miss Weasley? Her father? Mr Finnegan's entire family?" There was something that approached sympathy in Snape's tone. "I saw some of that. From the other side."

The rage Harry felt at those particular deaths hadn't left him. But somehow, Snape's sympathy was balm on the wounds. Snape of all people understood what it was like to lose someone precious. "It made me realize who the enemy was. Who I should hate."

A smile played across Snape's mouth and he inclined his head. "You've finally grown up, haven't you?"

Perhaps Harry should have been angered by the comment, but it seemed that Snape didn't meant it as a cut. "I was never a child."

"No. But you were young, and inexperienced."

"What was your excuse?"

"I hated your father. And your Godfather. And you." Snape said it like it wasn't true any longer.

"What changed?" Because really, that was the bottom line, and Harry found it nearly impossible to believe.

Snape was silent so long that Harry had thought he wasn't going to answer.

"I suspect that you can only sustain anger so long as you are comfortable enough to do so. It eventually falls victim to other, stronger emotions."

Harry couldn't believe Snape was actually talking about it, talking to _him_ about it. "What emotions?"

"Hunger. Despair. Devastation. Death." Snape sounded very tired, as if he'd experienced all of that, and now had no energy for anything else

It shocked Harry. He couldn't believe that Snape was telling him this. That Snape might _need_ to tell him this. "How did you come to this?"

Snape looked at him, and there was defeat written on his face. He wasn't even trying to hide it. "Do you want to hear about how my own foolishness did me in? I thought I could handle being with the Dark Lord. I thought that since I was smarter than he was, I could control him, manipulate what was happening." Snape laughed, bitterly. "He showed me in no uncertain terms how very wrong I was."

Harry was horrified, not just by what Snape was saying, but also by the depths of the despair in his words. "What did he do to you?"

"To me? Nothing really, beyond the usual Cruciatus for sport." He met Harry's eyes. "It was nothing he hadn't done before, but usually I didn't have to witness the others. The ones he killed. Or the ones I killed with potions created for that purpose. In seeing it, I could no longer deny my own culpability about anything."

The righteous part of Harry wanted to rail against having Snape done the things that he had no doubt done. It went against every one of his ideals. But the thing about war that Harry had learned was that sometimes there were sacrifices, and sometimes there were hard choices that had to be made. "It's never black and white, is it?"

"No. It's not. And after a year of unrelenting death, I've found petty hatreds and stupidity hard to sustain." Closing his eyes, Snape breathed out. "It doesn't matter what your father did to me when we were fifteen or what I did to him. I've seen and done so much worse now."

Harry didn't know what to say. He could only imagine the horrors that Snape had seen and what he'd done. It made him sick. But he also sympathized with Snape. That was something he'd never thought he'd do. "I wish I had something to say that would make it better."

"I'm shocked to hear that from you, the golden Gryffindor." And what should have been a sneering put-down came out almost amused. A small, sad smile edged onto Snape's mouth.

"If you can change, why can't I? Why can't I understand what you've gone through?" Harry couldn't begin to count the ways in which he'd changed in too short a time. For some reason, he wanted Snape to know it.

"Because Gryffindors hold onto their idealism until it is ripped bodily from them. They see the world in black and white. Good and bad." Snape really believed that, too.

"As I was saying...." Harry met his eyes. "That's what happened. Whatever idealism I had has been torn from me. I hate it that the world is made up of all the shades of gray, but I've learned to accept it."

"A hard lesson."

"Too hard. I'd rather not have had to learn it." He'd bet anything that Snape felt the same way.

Snape nodded. "You should get to bed. It will no doubt be a long day tomorrow."

"And this will be different from every other day, how?" Harry laughed at Snape's look. "I can't sleep. No matter how much you exhaust me."

"I shall have to try harder." Snape's tone was a familiar threat. But it had lost its ability to scare him. Snape stood.

Harry wasn't ready to let him go yet. "Have we heard from Draco?" It still amazed Harry that Draco had turned out to be on their side. Not only that, but since his denouncement of Snape, he was now Voldemort's most trusted aid. He'd been feeding them valuable information for all the months that Snape had been staying with Harry.

"We haven't heard much from Draco. He mostly communicates with Shacklebolt. He thinks the final attack will be on Hogwarts." Snape's voice was filled with disgust.

Hogwarts as a target shouldn't surprise Harry as much as it did. "Bloody Hell! With all the children in residence, there will be so many more casualties."

"No doubt that had something to do with the decision." Snape yawned. "You may not be able to sleep, but I suspect I can. Good night."

"Good night." Harry watched him leave, and sighed. It was odd that he found Snape more comfortable to be around than he did most other people.

* * *

It was late, and Harry couldn't sleep. He prowled the halls of a quiet Hogwarts. The Order had sure and certain information that the attack would come tomorrow. So, by two and threes, the Army of Light had taken up residence.

The children were at risk. And McGonagall wanted to send them all home, to be safe with their families, but many of their families were already here. Waiting to fight tomorrow.

In the Great Hall, Harry sat down at one of the tables pushed against the wall. It would all be over tomorrow, one way or another. He'd die, or he'd get the chance to go on with his life. If he were to have a future, then he'd have to decide what he wanted to do with it.

That was the trouble. There was a huge list of things that he didn't want to do, but he had no idea what he _did_ want to do. It was impossible to consider any option right now.

Before he could become any more trapped in his unproductive thoughts, the side door opened, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Snape sweep in, dark robes swirling dramatically as they had done when he'd been a teacher here.

"Was there anything left that was worth keeping?" Harry asked. Snape had been eager to see what of his possessions were left intact after almost two years. McGonagall had packed everything up and stored it once they'd realized Snape had not betrayed them.

"Yes. Actually quite a bit of it was in fairly good shape. There were some things that were missing of course." He gave Harry a significant look.

"I still have it. If anything was going to make me learn potions it was that book. Had a bit of a crush on the Half-Blood Prince," Harry admitted with a self-deprecating laugh.

"You're joking, right?" Snape did not look like he believed it at all.

"No. Truly. I did. All those spells and the potions tips. I thought he was the coolest of cool."

"How wrong you were."

"I was wrong about a lot of things, wasn't I?" Harry didn't just mean the Half-Blood Prince, and he hoped that Snape knew that.

Snape's expression was cautious, wary even. "You were. I've been...surprised by the change."

It was clear he wanted to know why, but Harry had no answer. "Once you came to stay with me, you were so...." All of the adjectives that he could come up with would come out completely wrong, and he didn't want to insult Snape.

"Well behaved, perhaps?" Snape's lips twitched as if he were trying to hold back a smile.

"I was going to say nice, but you weren't, aren't." Harry felt that hated blush start again. What was it about Snape that made him feel like a first-year?

Snape cleared his throat. "Would you consider returning the book to me?"

Even non-sequitur as it was, Harry wasn't surprised by the request. "Sure. When this is over."

"Speaking of tomorrow, you should be in bed. Like any sane person would be at this hour." The smirk on Snape's face said he included himself in the statement.

"I won't mention who else is awake." Harry also wasn't going to mention how much he appreciated the company.

"Wise decision. Perhaps a drink might help you sleep?" There was ever so slight a hesitation in Snape's invitation, and Harry had to wonder why. He was of age.

"Sure. Your place or mine?" Harry laughed at the gobsmacked look on his face. "Oh, please. You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Pity." And he said it with a perfectly straight face. Like he really meant it.

Of course, Harry knew he didn't. But he couldn't help saying, "As if you'd take me up on it if I were serious?"

"You never know what I might do. Are you serious?" Snape's tone was deeper than it usually was when he was teasing. Harry was surprised at how...pleasant it was. He had to be teasing.

"You're joking, right?" Harry sputtered. He could _not_ believe Snape was flirting with him. That was wrong on so many levels that he could not even begin to contemplate it.

Snape laughed, his whole face lighting up with it. "You are so bloody gullible, Potter. It's amazing you've survived this long."

He was joking. Of course, he was. Harry didn't expect to be slightly disappointed about it. It wasn't as if he wanted...no. It did bring home the point that somewhere in the last six months he'd come to...what? Appreciate Snape? He certainly felt comfortable with Snape. Could he admit they were friends?

Maybe it was more? He looked at Snape, really looked at him, for maybe the first time in years. He was thin, and white and ugly. That hair still looked like it never saw shampoo. But somehow, he wasn't repulsive. He was just Snape. Maybe that was good enough. Now was probably not the best time to consider the idea.

"About that drink? Your place, I think. I don't have anything in mine." Harry had been given rooms in Gryffindor tower, guest rooms. While they were very nice, they lacked any amenities like whiskey.

"Come along, then." Snape bowed slightly, and indicated Harry should precede him from the Hall.

The battle was bloody, and they were losing. Harry's one thought was to find Voldemort and to kill him. He'd seen too many of his comrades fall already. This had to end, and soon. His scar ached. The pain grew stronger, and he followed the pull.

At the edge of the forbidden forest, away from the battle, but still within sight of it, Harry found what he'd been looking for.

"What do we have here?" Lucius Malfoy's voice made Harry shudder. It was easy to hear all the hidden horrors that were buried there.

Harry turned slowly. Voldemort sat on a chair, observing the battle without being in the midst of it.

What utter arrogance.

"My Lord, may I?" The note of pleading in Malfoy's voice irritated Harry.

Harry gripped his wand, wanting to hex the bastard, but he waited instead. His time would come.

"No! He belongs to me!" Voldemort sneered. "You will not interfere."

Harry thought about saying he was right there, but they knew. And he could wait them out.

"Are you ready to die?" Voldemort's lipless face seemed to be trying to smile, but really, that wasn't possible.

"No. Not ready at all. How about you? Because I'm going to kill you." Harry held his wand tightly, adrenalin flowing through him. He wanted this over with, and Voldemort dead.

Voldemort stood and the chair vanished. "Shall we duel?"

There was no reason to observe the niceties of Wizarding society with this creature who was so far out of it. "Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, ducking and rolling away from whatever Voldemort fired back.

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted at the same time. He went flying backward, landing with a thud on his bum. His curse hit the ground harmlessly.

Harry would have found the sight of Voldemort on his arse funny under any other circumstances. Right now, he couldn't be distracted.

"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy said, but Harry rolled away, and kept hold of his wand by sheer force.

"Accio Voldemort's wand." Harry was half-surprised that it came to him. Unfortunately, that still left Malfoy with a raised wand.

"Sectumsempra!" Malfoy yelled.

Lying on the ground in front of him, Harry had nowhere to go. He tried to roll away, but Malfoy's wand followed him. It didn't seem right to him that he was going to die by one of Snape's spells, especially that one.

"No!" Snape materialized out of nowhere to slam into Malfoy, sending him crashing to the dirt. Unfortunately Malfoy kept hold of his wand, and Snape was caught in the light of the curse.

Harry didn't have time to react. Jumping up, he turned and cast, "Avada Kedavra," on Voldemort, who had barely got to his feet. Harry poured all the intense desire to rid the world of his presence once and for all time into the curse. The spell left a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

"Extermino!" Harry yelled just to be sure. The body burst into flames and was consumed in a matter of seconds.

As soon as the body was gone, Harry heard Malfoy cry out, clutching his left arm, and falling to his knees in obvious pain. Harry didn't care. He raised his wand again and cast, "Petrificus Totalus." No sense in taking chances.

Finally, he could focus on something else. Snape lay on the ground, still as death, bleeding from cuts all over his body. But his chest was moving, faintly. He'd lost a lot of blood already. Harry knelt beside him, his heart pounding and tears welling in his eyes.

He traced his wand over the worst of the cuts, muttering the counter-curse he'd learned in sixth year. Using the counter-curse four times, he was finally able to get the bleeding stopped, but Snape was still unconscious. He gathered Snape close for a moment, then used Mobilicorpus, to move him to the infirmary.

Now that Voldemort was dead, the Death Eaters left alive seemed to have lost their fervor. Some were on the ground, clutching their arms in obvious pain. Others seemed to fight on despite of it. Harry didn't care. He'd done what he'd had to do, and now he was going to make sure Snape was okay.

Dark of the night was always far too quiet for Harry's peace of mind. He'd spent many nights awake and alone, with only his dismal thoughts for company. Even if he'd slept like a normal person, he wouldn't have slept tonight.

Shifting to ease the tightness in his back, Harry's eyes were drawn to Snape. He was lying in bed, his skin gray, dark circles under the black crescents of his eyelashes. Harry took Snape's hand, rubbing along the thin flesh. He wouldn't give up on him.

Everyone else had been sent home. Wisely, Poppy hadn't even tried to evict him. She knew him too well.

Snape should be in St. Mungo's, but Harry didn't trust them to do right by him. There had already been rumblings from the Ministry.

Harry sighed. He was afraid to hope. Afraid of what was to come. He leaned closer, listening to Snape's shallow breathing. He squeezed Snape's hand, willing him to know that Harry was there for him, willing him to know that people cared.

Poppy had said he should talk to Snape, but he didn't know what to say. He should tell Snape about the end of the battle. Harry's heart clutched at that. Too many people had died. Too many more of his friends and schoolmates.

Snape's bravery had nearly cost him his life. He'd lost so much blood that Madam Pomfrey hadn't been sure she could save him. Even now, he was going to be weak for a few days. When he woke up, that was. He should have done so already.

Harry looked down at him, and sighed. What did it take for him to do this again? He hated it that Snape had risked himself. Hated it that he'd been hurt. Hated it even more that the situation had demanded it.

Some conniving Slytherin Snape was. Harry snorted. "You really should have been sorted into Gryffindor. I can't imagine why you weren't."

He was surprised when a dry, hoarse voice answered. "I met Sirius Black on the train and he was sorted into Gryffindor."

For a second, Harry couldn't speak. His joy that Snape was awake threatened to overwhelm him. "So you didn't want to be in Gryffindor?"

"I begged the hat to put me anywhere else. I have often wondered if I'd made a mistake." Snape opened his eyes and looked at Harry. "Some water?"

"Oh, sure thing." Harry moved to sit on the bed to help Snape sit up enough to drink. "Here." He put the glass to his lips. "Small sips."

"How long have I been out?" Snape asked as he pulled back.

Harry gently lowered him back to his pillow. "Almost three days." It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he'd been worried sick, but he wasn't sure Snape would care to know.

Snape put his hand on Harry's arm. "Surely you haven't been here this whole time."

"Where else would I have been?" He wasn't going to blush. He would have stayed with any of his friends. There was no use in denying that he considered Snape such.

"Celebrating the Dark Lord's defeat. I'm assuming he was killed?"

"And the corpse was burned to cinders just to make sure."

"Good riddance." Snape looked at him. "Why aren't you celebrating?" Snape sounded like he really meant it, as if Harry should have been going to parties rather than sitting at his...friend's bedside. Everything else would wait for him to get there, or go on without him.

Harry wondered if he should tell him that he wasn't the only one who'd been here, though he was the only one who insisted on staying. "I wasn't in the mood."

Snape's look changed, but Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking. Not that he ever could.

"What?" Harry wondered what the problem was. Maybe, he didn't want to know. There were too many things that Snape could say right now that would hurt too much for him to bear. "I should go get Poppy. She made me promise that I'd wake her when you woke up."

Harry stood.

"Potter." Snape reached out again, his fingers trailing along Harry's arm, as if to catch him before he left.

Harry looked back at him.

"Thank you." The sincerity and gratitude on Snape's face was startling.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry savored the warm feeling in his chest. "Right," he said.

Harry had to get out of there before he said something stupid. He went to find Poppy. She checked Snape while he watched and then ordered Harry to bed. Snape reiterated the order and Harry knew when he was out-flanked. He went to get a few hours sleep.

When Harry returned to Snape's bedside a few hours later, two Aurors were also standing there.

"What is going on here?" Harry asked, his voice hard. He had already had several conversations with Scrimgeour about Snape. And was furious to find that the Minster was not listening. He had no intention of allowing Scrimgeour to make a scapegoat out of Snape.

"We've got orders to --"

"Orders from whom?" Harry demanded, trying hard not to let go of his temper. It would serve no one if he lost control.

"From the Minister of Magic," one of them said, sounding quite self-important.

As if Harry were going to be impressed with that. He wanted to scoff at them, but again, that would not help the matter at hand. "What are your orders?"

"To question the suspect --"

"Suspect? What is Snape suspected of doing?" Despite his best efforts, Harry was rapidly losing what little patience he had with these two. How dare they waltz in as if they owned the place and accuse Snape of anything? A small voice in Harry's head reminded him that whatever the circumstances, Snape's hands were far from clean. Harry shoved that thought away.

"Murdering Albus Dumbledore. Aiding and abetting You-Know-Who. Being a Death Eater," the second one said.

"If we deem it necessary, we'll remove him from here and escort him to Azkaban." The first one said that as if it were a forgone conclusion.

That wasn't going to happen, not if Harry had anything to say about it. "I don't think so."

"Are you thinking of trying to obstruct justice?" the second one asked, and his tone said he'd like to have Harry try.

Really, Harry was far too smart to even consider playing that game. Instead, he swallowed his anger, and smiled at them without any warmth in it. "Of course not. But think about what your organization is going to look like when you put an injured war hero into Azkaban for no reason."

"He's not a war hero," the first one spat.

"And you would know this because you were there, right?" Harry kept his tone inquiring. But he knew who had been there, and who hadn't. Too many of his friends, who had been there, hadn't lived to tell the tale.

The Auror shook his head.

"Then do you doubt what I'm telling you? I _was_ there. I saw him save my life at great risk of his own."

Both of the Aurors looked surprised by his ire, and then uncertain.

Harry pressed his advantage. "I'd think seriously about what you're about to do, and how it's going to affect your career when I go to the papers." He smiled coldly at them. "And make no mistake, I will."

"We'll see about that." But both of them left without ever waking Snape. And it showed how badly Snape still felt that he'd slept through the whole conversation.

"You're fighting a losing battle, Potter." Snape's tone was resigned, as if he thought no one could or would stand up for him. Really, he should know Harry better than that by now.

"I guess you didn't sleep through that after all." Harry would have spared him the ugliness of it, if he could have done. It wasn't right that they were harassing Snape.

"Not unless I was dead." Snape's tone was very faintly amused.

"I'm glad you're not." And Harry meant that from the bottom of his heart. That Snape might have died for him was enough to give Harry nightmares for years to come.

"I am as well. However, I don't think you'll keep me out of Azkaban, not if the Ministry wants me there."

Harry smiled at him. "Oh, I think I will. I've got to have some political capital after killing Voldemort. I plan to spend it."

"You should have been sorted into Slytherin." Snape said it as if it were the highest compliment he could pay.

Harry grinned at him, pleased beyond words that he could say, "I begged the hat not to do it."

Snape laughed softly. "That doesn't surprise me in the least."

A couple of months later, he met Snape at a restaurant in Diagon Alley to celebrate that Snape had been cleared of all charges.

"I'm still not sure how you managed to do this, Potter. But thank you." Snape tipped his glass in salute.

"I told you I'd keep you out of Azkaban. Did you think I was kidding?" Fortunately, it hadn't been nearly as hard as Snape seemed to think it was. The hard part had been listening to the interviewer go on and on about how wonderful Harry was, how he'd done this great thing.

Harry hadn't appreciated the attention before he'd killed Voldemort, and now that he had done it, the attention had magnified a hundred-fold. And Harry hated it even worse. Only having his friends around him had kept him sane.

"I didn't think you'd be able to do it, despite your best intentions."

"You should know me better than that by now."

Anything Harry said was taken as fact. If he said that Snape had saved his life and should be considered a war hero, then that's what Snape was. A few judiciously worded interviews in the various local Wizarding papers, not to mention a few Euro-Wizarding ones, and public opinion was on Snape's side.

Snape inclined his head. "Perhaps you're right. Well done, then." And Snape sounded entirely sincere. Harry couldn't hear even the slightest sneer or condescension in Snape's words.

He choked, unable to believe that Snape had actually said it. Not that he wasn't very pleased by the gratitude, but it seemed...Harry wasn't sure, out of character maybe. "I think I should be checking for Polyjuice again."

Snape smiled at that, his expression almost fond. "You're not that much of an idiot, are you?"

"You thanked me, and complimented me. What am I supposed to think?" A warm feeling expanded in his chest at both Snape's smile and the affection in his tone. Harry admitted to himself that there was a part of him that had wanted that for a long time.

"Perhaps that after all these years, you finally managed to do something right. Enjoy it. I'm sure it won't happen very often." Snape met his eyes and sincerity shone in them. "I _do_ appreciate the effort you've put forth on my behalf."

"I know you do. I'm just surprised --" Oh that was not going to come out sounding right no matter how Harry said it.

"That I was willing to acknowledge that you've made an effort to keep me out of prison? That you somehow managed to get me exonerated on a murder charge when I did commit the murder?"

"Well...." With public opinion on their side, and Scrimgeour given enough of a deal to save face, it never even got to the Wizengamot.

"I am deeply grateful to have my life, Potter. I don't know what part of that you don't understand. It seems to me that you have issues you should to deal with."

A sincere Snape was a scary thing, but Harry rather thought he could get used to it. A blush crawled up his neck and spilled over his face. "If I had to believe you had done what needed to be done, then everyone else had to believe it, too."

"As you please." Snape played with his fork for a moment. A nervous gesture Harry had not quite believed Snape would have. After another moment, Snape cleared his throat. "I'd like to ask another favor of you."

"Since when do you ever ask for favors of me?" He waited to hear what it was. Snape was not immediately forthcoming. It had to be something major if Snape wasn't asking right away. Harry tried not to squirm as his nerves stretched taut.

Snape would tell Harry in his own time, or not.

About the time he was ready to give up and ask, Snape said, "The Ministry awards dinner and ball is next weekend."

"Yes. I knew that." Where was this going? If this were anyone other than Snape, he'd know, but there was no way Snape was going to ask him out. It just wasn't going to happen. Harry shrugged. "Hermione's all a-twitter looking for new robes to wear. I never thought she was all that interested in clothes, you know."

The look Snape gave him said he was an idiot. "All witches are interested in new robes when they are getting an Order of Merlin, first class."

"I wouldn't care so much, but she made me get new ones, too. My old ones were perfectly wearable." Harry had been seriously put out with all the fittings. It was just a colossal waste of time and money.

Snape nodded approvingly. "Smart witch --"

"Did you just call Hermione smart?" This conversation got weirder and weirder. Harry couldn't quite believe they were having it.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Will you let me continue?"

"Please. Go on." Harry grinned at him.

"I will. Thank you." But of course, he didn't. He was silent for a count or two. "I assume you are planning on attending the ball afterward as well."

"That's what I said." Harry could tell Snape was nervous, and that was enough to make him nervous as well.

Snape squared his shoulders. "I would be pleased if you'd consider attending with me --"

Harry's first inclination was to laugh out loud. But a look at Snape's face said he was serious. "Like a date or something?" His voice came out high pitched, and embarrassingly squeaky with his disbelief. He was mortified, especially when something flashed in Snape's eyes. It was gone in a split second, and had Harry wondering if he'd even seen it.

"If you would let me finish," Snape sounded perfectly exasperated, and totally normal. Not at all like something was bothering him. "If we go together, it will help my standing in the community. For whatever reason, you don't seem to find my company disagreeable. And you don't seem to mind helping me."

"No. I don't mind helping you." Harry's mind whirled at the possibilities that had just presented themselves. Things he never would have associated with Snape. "Why do you care about what the Wizarding community thinks of you?"

"There are still any number of people who blame me for Dumbledore's death --"

"Well, you did kill him. I think more people understand the aspects of it than you give them credit for." Harry wasn't sure how many people saw the big picture, or even wanted to see it. They'd worked hard to polish up Snape's tarnished image, and that was all that people saw now.

"As I was saying, I wish to live and work in the community." The seriousness of Snape's look said plainly that this was something that was important to him, something he'd spent some time thinking about.

Harry couldn't help but find that surprising. He'd never thought of Snape as someone who cared one way or another what people thought of him. Despite the years of knowing Snape, Harry really didn't know him very well. "What are you planning to do?"

"I hope to open an apothecary." There was an ever so slight longing in his tone. He wanted to do it.

Harry couldn't hold back a chuckle at the thought of Snape as a shopkeeper. "You deal so well with people."

"I have dealt with you, haven't I?" Snape said, sharply. He wasn't wrong, either. Snape had not only dealt with Harry, he'd dealt with everyone else as well.

"So...."

"I can afford to pay someone to run the store, at least part time to start. But I will need customers."

"Right. And to get that you need to be in good standing with the community." It all made sense, and was perfectly logical. Harry refused to acknowledge the pang he felt that Snape wasn't actually asking him out. Why should he care? It was ridiculous to even consider it.

"Now that everything has settled down and you've done your Gryffindor duty to me, what plans do you have for your life?" Surprisingly, he sounded like he wanted to know.

Harry couldn't credit that Snape cared that much. Yes, they'd become friends, but he couldn't believe Snape was interested in his future. "Now that I have one you mean? I don't know. I don't want to be an Auror anymore." Harry had had so little time to think about it. "Hermione is going to sit her NEWTs in a couple of months. I thought I might do that, too."

For a moment, Snape considered him, and then cleared his throat. "I would be willing to help you study for that."

"You must really want to go with me to the dinner." Harry laughed to cover how pleased he was with the offer. Despite how bad Snape was in the classroom, one on one, or in a small group, he was brilliant.

"It's of no matter to me one way or another. I would skip the whole thing if I could." Despite the words, there was the slightest disappointment in Snape's eyes.

It bothered Harry more than he would have thought possible. Something was going on here, and it distressed him that he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

As Harry was about to Apparate away, Snape reached out and touched his cheek tenderly drawing a line down it with his finger. A look of something soft and warm flashed in his eyes, but it was gone in the second it took Snape to Apparate away.

Harry stood there, stunned. His mouth hung open as too many possibilities crossed and recrossed his mind.

What had it taken for Snape to let him see that, see what he felt? Why had he done it?

For a long time after that, Harry wandered around Muggle London, in a daze. Things he'd never thought about were occurring to him. He didn't know what to do, either.

He needed to talk. And what were best friends for if he couldn't bother them about life-changing issues?

"Ron," Harry called into the fire.

"What? Harry, is something wrong?" It was Hermione who answered and she sounded as if she'd been woken up. She was wearing one of Ron's t-shirts.

Harry sighed.

"Nothing's wrong." He felt like an idiot. Shouldn't he be able to work this out on his own? Only he couldn't, and that was the problem.

"Do you want to come through?" Ron asked as he wrapped a dressing gown around himself.

Harry hated to interrupt them, but both had always insisted that he could come by whenever he needed them. And any time he had, they had been there for him. This was one of those times.

"Yeah." He stepped into the flames and tumbled into Ron's flat.

"Do you want some tea?" Hermione held up a mug. "I can make you some."

"No." Harry sat on the sofa, uncertain where to even start. "Snape asked me to go to the Ministry awards dinner with him."

Ron choked on his tea.

"I would not have thought he'd have the courage to do that." Hermione didn't seem half as surprised as Harry expected her to be.

"That's not all he said." Harry found it hard to actually say the words. What if he read it wrong? What if they thought he was mad to even think such a thing? He couldn't quite believe that Snape felt that way about him, but it _had_ been in his eyes, and more so in his touch. Harry looked up.

Ron and Hermione were clearly waiting for the punch line.

Thinking about that moment again, Harry knew he wasn't wrong. He knew what he'd seen on Snape's face and what Snape had been asking. "I think...I think Snape has feelings for me."

"You just realized that?" Hermione's expression was fond, but her tone said he was dense.

"You knew? And you didn't tell me?" Surprised, and a little hurt, Harry couldn't understand why she wouldn't have mentioned it before now.

"It wasn't my secret to tell." She sounded like he should already know that.

Harry didn't know any such thing, especially not why she hadn't told him. "A hint might have been nice. I was sort of blindsided by this."

"You really didn't know? I mean, he's been awfully good to you. And by extension to us as well." Hermione shook her head.

"It never occurred to me. It never _would_ have occurred to me." Harry was more likely to accept that Snape had started to hate him again, than Snape...liked him. Like that.

"Even I don't think it's that hard to believe, mate. He's changed a lot." Ron was smiling about it, too.

Which put Harry even more on edge. What had he missed and for how long? "But he's still Snape, isn't he?" Except that he wasn't. Not entirely, anyway. Harry was privy to what happened to him. It was kind of amazing that he'd gone on to thrive after his time with Voldemort.

Both Ron and Hermione gave him looks of varying amounts of disbelief.

"You don't really believe that, do you," Hermione asked.

At this point, Harry didn't know any more. "I've been walking around, trying to figure out what I should do about it, too."

"How you feel about him would be a good first question." Ron looked at him expectantly.

But Harry didn't know what to say. The entire thing was too confusing, and really, that was why he'd come to them. He'd hoped they could help him sort it out. "I guess that I think of him as a friend. Maybe even a good friend."

"The next question is do you want to think of him as more than that?" And clearly, Hermione cared about the answer to that. She probably cared about Snape, too.

Did he? Care about Snape? Like that?

Harry tried to concentrate, to think about Snape in some manner other than as a friend. Snape was ugly and sarcastic. His hair was still greasy. On the other hand, Snape was a good friend. He'd risked his life for Harry more than once. And now that so much of the bitter anger was gone, he was pleasant, if sarcastic, company. "He's one of the few people I know who understands what happened."

Ron nodded, and Harry knew he understood what he was talking about, too. Only someone who had been on the front lines for years could possibly understand. "Yeah, sometimes talking to him is such a relief. You don't have to explain the why of anything."

Since when did Ron spend that much time talking to Snape?

Before Harry could ask, Hermione sighed and nodded, too. "Yes. He's been so helpful to all of us. He's helping me with my NEWTs Potions work." She met his eyes. "Do you want to kiss him?"

"What?" Harry was shocked by the directness of the question. Details were not what they usually talked about. Well, not those kinds of details.

"I think that's how you decide. If you want to kiss him, then you should go do it. If not...then you have your answer, too." Hermione looked like she'd figured out a puzzle by sheer brute intellectual force.

Harry was pretty sure it didn't work that way. "Um...."

"And whatever you decide, you should let him know as soon as you can. You don't want to hurt him," Ron said, sounding surprisingly protective of Snape.

"I think I kind of did that already." Only not in the way they were saying. Harry didn't even want to think about what he'd done. Even if he couldn't quite have helped it. He should have been more careful.

Hermione's expression became worried. She could probably tell it wasn't going to be good. "What did you do?"

"When he asked me to the Ministry dinner, I nearly laughed in his face." Harry's stomach dropped at what that might have done to Snape.

"Oh, Harry, you didn't." Hermione sounded horrified.

Harry nodded, miserably. He'd probably hurt Snape and that felt so wrong. "I didn't actually laugh at him. Then he said that it wasn't really a date. That it was just to help his standing in the community."

"Good recovery, that," Ron said, sounding a bit impressed. He looked at Harry. "What did you expect him to say after that?"

"I don't know. I was too surprised to think about anything." Harry still couldn't think straight. His mind was awhirl, as it had been since Snape touched him.

"You should decide what you want to do," Hermione said.

"It's not that easy." Harry saw the expression of doubt on Hermione's face. "You think that I...like him, too?"

To test the theory, he ran a few fantasy scenarios starring Snape through his mind, and well...he had to cut them off abruptly because they were making him warmer than he should be. He didn't want to have to excuse himself.

"I think it's very possible." Hermione's eyes lit. Clearly she knew what Harry had been thinking.

"So do I," Ron said. He'd seen the same thing.

They always knew and he always wondered what it was that gave him away. "I can't believe you're going to be okay with this."

"Well, Snape's kind of a bastard, but you know, I think of him as _our_ bastard. He trained you, and us. We wouldn't have won without the information he risked his life to get for us." Ron smiled at that.

"It's rather hard to dislike him after all of that." Hermione had a hard time disliking anyone.

The answer should have surprised Harry a lot more than it did. It felt right to have them say it, though. And it also felt right for him to think of Snape like that. "I should go speak to him, shouldn't I?"

Both of them nodded in tandem.

Harry laughed. "Okay. I should let you get back to bed, or whatever you were doing."

"Right. You know...." Hermione didn't have to finish it.

Harry did know, and he loved them for their steadfastness, for the fact that he could wake them up without worry. For a hundred other things as well. "Yeah. And thanks." Harry hugged her. "Really."

"S'what we're here for, mate." Ron knocked his shoulder into Harry's.

After Harry left Ron's flat, he Apparated to Spinner's End. He stood at the door of Snape's house, undecided. A cool wind blew down the street, and Harry shivered. What was he going to say? Nothing spectacular came to mind, so he'd just have to wing it, like he'd always done in the past. Maybe his Gryffindor luck would serve him one more time. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

Snape opened it promptly, and then frowned at him. "Potter? Shall I mention how rude it is to show up without owling or calling first?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I wanted to have a word, if you've got the time." Smiling tentatively, Harry went in as Snape stepped aside.

Harry stood in the doorway of the sitting room. Unsurprisingly, it was decorated with bookshelves and comfortably worn furniture.

"Do you want some tea or a drink?" Snape asked, his tone not hiding his curiosity.

"Um...no..." He looked at Snape, standing there with his shirt untucked and his feet bare, and somehow he looked approachable. He looked touchable. And for whatever reason, Harry did want to touch him. Maybe more than touch. "Why? Why did you ask me out? Really?"

"I told you --"

"What if I said I didn't believe you. What if I said I thought it was more than that?" What if he said he wanted it to be more than that? But Harry couldn't say that out loud. Not yet. He wondered how far he could push Snape for answers without it exploding back on him unpleasantly. He was going to find out, wasn't he?

"I'd say you were delusional to think it anything other than what I've said." Snape sounded like he had in class when Harry had said something particularly dense.

Harry forced a smile. "You're Slytherin. You never say what you mean."

"Perhaps. But what would you have me say?" Snape asked, his lips twitching. Clearly, he found this amusing.

Unfortunately, Harry didn't. It felt like he was being teased, but he knew this meant more to both of them than that. Harry licked his lips, and was surprised to see Snape's eyes widen slightly as he did so. "I'd have you tell me the truth."

"What if I showed you the truth?" Snape took a step towards him, and then another, and finally, he was beside Harry, looking down at him. "Say no."

"Um..." He knew that Snape was going to kiss him, and he wanted that more than he was going to be able to express. Tilting his head up, he kept looking at Snape, his belly tightening with anticipation, and his palms starting to sweat.

Oh, yes, he wanted Snape to kiss him.

Snape's fingers grazed the underside of Harry's chin, pushing his face up ever so slightly. Harry's eyes closed and a tremor went through him. He did want it, wanted Snape to kiss him.

The first touch of Snape's lips was soft and dry and quick. Over almost before it started. Harry tilted his mouth up a bit more, seeking, and finding Snape's mouth again. How was it possible that someone with narrow, thin lips could kiss so incredibly lushly? Because kissing Snape was beyond anything Harry had ever experienced before.

Harry groaned as the second kiss ended. He moved his hand up Snape's arm, stepping forward, against him.

Snape gathered him even closer, holding him, his mouth descending onto Harry's, hotter, wetter, more deeply than before. His tongue flicked out along Harry's lips, and he opened his mouth, allowing Snape in and it was hotter still.

He leaned completely into Snape, holding on, gripping him, a hand sliding into Snape's dirty hair. He didn't care right then about anything other than the amazing feel of Snape's mouth on his, and Snape's tongue exploring, and Snape's hands on his body. He wanted it to go on forever. Nothing else mattered.

Arousal roared through him, and he ground himself against Snape's hip. Hot, wonderful sensations rolled over him. He did it again. That was so good. Why had he never thought that sliding into someone like that would feel so bloody amazing?

An answering hardness pressed into his belly, and Snape's hands moved down his back and clutched at his buttocks, pulling him closer.

Harry moaned into his mouth.

He gripped Snape's waist, trying to get closer, to press harder. It wasn't supposed to be like this, so hot, so exciting, so unbelievably good. His back was pressed into the wall, and he pressed forward one more time, crying out as he came.

Snape ground into his belly. He took Harry's hand and put it against the bulge in his trousers. Taking the hint, Harry closed his hand over it, and Snape bucked into him. After a moment more, Snape groaned, his body stiffening, and he came, too.

"I guess that would be why," Harry gasped. He was starting to shake with reaction. His legs seemed unable to hold him, and he slowly sank down to sit against the wall.

Snape went down with him, looking like he was in the same kind of shape.

With a sigh of contentment, Harry leaned his head into Snape's chest. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Nor was I. My fantasies were more to do with --" Snape seemed to realize what he was saying and cut himself off. A tell-tale redness appearing on his face.

It was too much. Harry put a hand on his jaw and forced his head down a bit, just enough to kiss him. The ashes of the fire seemed ready to burst back to life. But Harry pulled back. "Tell me about your fantasies."

"I thought it would take longer, for one thing." Snape sighed, pulling his wand out of his pocket, and waving it over them as he muttered something.

The dampness in Harry's pants disappeared. "Thanks."

"So, what of your fantasies?"

Harry laughed. "I kind of expected my first time to be in a bed."

"Oh, sweet Merlin, I'm --"

Harry covered his mouth with his hand. "No. It wasn't what I was expecting, but bloody hell, it was hot. My fantasies paled in comparison."

"I shall owe you a proper first time."

Anticipation slid down Harry's spine at the hungry look in Snape's eyes. "Don't think I won't collect on that."

Snape inclined his head. "Whenever you please."

"Now seems like a good time." Though really, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to ever move again, even with the draft coming in from under the door.

"That can be arranged." Snape took his hand and pointed his wand. The world compressed and flattened.

When it righted, Harry was sitting on a bed in a deeply masculine bedroom. Snape's, he presumed. "Warn me next time you're going to do something like that."

Snape leaned in and kissed him again without answering, sliding his arms around Harry, and pulling him closer.

This kiss was warm and sweet and good. Harry let the sensations wash over him, coating him in anticipation and bliss. This time, he knew what was coming, and he wanted it.

Unexpectedly, Snape pulled away and stood, pulling Harry up with him. "We shall do this correctly, unlike last time."

"There's a more correct way?" As far as Harry was concerned the last time felt awfully right to him.

"You idiot boy. There's always a correct way to do things. Not that you'd care, of course." Snape's fond tone was completely at odds with his words. He kissed Harry deeply, while his long fingers pulled at Harry's clothes until he was naked.

Harry shivered. It felt weird to be completely naked while Snape was still dressed. He reached for Snape, pulling him close. "Can I undress you, too?"

"I would like that." Snape stepped back, allowing Harry to fumble his buttons open, and tug his robes off.

Snape wasn't beautiful, or very well built or much of anything other than skinny, scarred and white. Harry didn't care, though. He was Snape, and if he wasn't perfect, then he was good enough.

No. He was better than good enough. He was someone Harry wanted to know. Someone Harry wanted to love.

Love?

That should have brought him up short, should have made him think or stop. But instead, it just felt right. He couldn't argue with how right. Or even the why of it. Harry had learned that some things just had to be accepted for what they were. Snape was like that.

Harry leaned in and kissed him, his hands running slowly, carefully over Snape's uneven skin, delighting in the sigh that came from Snape.

Although he'd never touched a prick other than his own, it wasn't so strange. Snape's was different, longer, thicker. He ran a finger over it, and then cupped Snape's balls in his hand, testing their weight, feeling the velvety softness.

It was a bit odd to handle him like this, but it felt so right at the same time. Harry liked the feel of him, hot and heavy in his hand.

The squeaky sound of pleasure that Snape made was almost enough to make Harry come right there. Wrapping his hand around the surprisingly large length of him, Harry stroked back and forth a few times.

"No." Snape's hand clutched his wrist tightly.

Harry immediately let go, afraid he might have presumed too much, afraid he might have pushed too hard. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not. Quite the opposite, in fact. You might be young enough to be able to go more than twice in a night, but I'm not."

Harry wasn't sure what he meant. "Um..."

"If you continue, I'll come again, and that isn't how I wanted to do it this time." Snape's tone held his anticipation. He had something special planned.

Excitement spiraled through Harry. "What did you have in mind?"

"Let's get back into bed, and I'll show you."

He hopped up on the bed, and held out a hand to Snape, smiling for all he was worth. The look on Snape's face had Harry's whole body tightening with expectation. He knew it was going to be good, that Snape would take care of him, take care to please him.

Snape joined him on the bed, gently pushing him flat, and rolling on top of him. "I've a mind to make a meal of you. Taste every single bit."

"Bit of what," Harry asked, his tone breathless.

"Idiot boy. Every bit of you."

Oh. Harry didn't respond, mostly because he couldn't. Snape's mouth was doing amazing things to his neck, and all Harry could do was squirm and give in.

"Please," he begged, not quite sure what he wanted, but willing to trust Snape to give it to him.

"Patience." Snape's tone was like warm honey dripping through sunlight. It wrapped around Harry and held him in awe.

Harry arched up and groaned as both of Snape's thumbs brushed across his nipples at the same time. Snape's head bent to kiss the middle of Harry's chest.

"Now," Harry whined as Snape's thumbs bushed again. "Oh, God. Please."

"Hmm... you're rather sensitive, aren't you?" Snape seemed pleased by this for some reason, but really, Harry couldn't guess why.

And as Snape licked across his left nipple, Harry couldn't have cared less about anything else.

"Ugh.... Do it again. Do it," Harry demanded. Tiny sparks of pleasure arrowed into him with each touch of Snape's tongue on his flesh.

Snape chuckled. "You're so eloquent when you're aroused."

Harry wanted to be angry or offended, but Snape's teeth worried that same nipple and he was more concerned about coming far too soon than he was about anything else. "Snape...."

"I do have another name, you know." At least he sounded rather amused. "Say my name."

"Severus," Harry breathed, willing to do anything he asked, just so he'd keep doing what he was doing. "Do it again."

Snape complied and Harry shuddered, hard.

"I'll do other things as well," Snape promised in a dark tone that sent a shiver of delight down Harry's spine.

"Please." Harry arched into Snape's mouth when he licked again.

"Say my name again."

As Snape slid down his body, his mouth hitting strategic points along the way, Harry couldn't remember what his own name was, let alone Snape's.

It was too much, Harry moaned again. "Please. Something. Anything."

Snape didn't say anything, but rolled off him.

Harry blinked up at him. "What are you doing? You're not supposed to stop."

"I'm not, foolish boy." Snape pushed his shoulder so that he'd roll over. "Now, do be quiet and pay attention."

As if he could do anything else. He ground himself into the bedding, and wonderful, lovely sensations washed over him. God, he needed something. Soon. He did it again. This had gone on for too long already. He wasn't going to survive for long.

Snape smacked his bum. "None of that, now. You'll just have to wait."

"Can't."

"Oh, of course you can. You just don't want to."

"No. I don't. You promised."

"I did." Snape leaned over him and kissed the nape of his neck.

Finally, Snape had stopped talking and started kissing. Methodically, Snape moved down Harry's back, licking each vertebrae, his tongue doing a dance around each ridge. Harry squirmed and jerked. He'd never thought of his back as particularly sensitive, but Snape was driving him crazy.

Harry started when Snape didn't stop at the small of his back as he'd expected. No. Instead, he spread Harry's cheeks apart and blew across the heated flesh.

A blush started at Harry's toes. Snape shouldn't be looking at him like that. Not there. Or blowing on it like that. Or --

"Oh, God! What are you doing?"

Snape chuckled. "Should be fairly obvious." And he slid his tongue down the crease of Harry's arse, and then back up again.

A strangled gasp, and then a whine came out of Harry. He couldn't help it. Shocked beyond words by Snape's audacity, Harry could barely breathe. But when Snape repeated himself, Harry was stunned into silence.

For about two seconds. Then he let out a lusty moan he could not keep back. Didn't really want to keep back. Snape deserved to know that what he was doing was appreciated. And Harry did. Completely. Totally. With passion.

That inquisitive tongue did not let up. It came back, dragging over his entrance again and again, and each time the sensations heightened, and Harry moaned pitifully. It was too intense to be borne and he prayed that Snape would never, ever stop.

The introduction of a finger into the mix should have taken the edge off. Harry could perceive that it wasn't as comfortable as before, but the pain melded seamlessly with the pleasure and he thrust back into it.

By the time there were three fingers inside him, he was in more pain than pleasure, but Snape knew some trick of it. Some place in him that sent jolty pleasure-pain through his feverous system and Harry didn't want him to stop.

But of course, Snape did stop, contrary bastard that he was. He slid his fingers out and quickly stroked himself, and then started to push into Harry.

That hurt.

Quite a bit, actually, but Snape pulled his hips so that his arse was in the air, and his shoulders were on the bed. Harry didn't like the position much, but when Snape reached around and took his prick -- which was still interested, despite the pain -- in his hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts, Harry decided he could live with it.

The jolty pleasure magnified. And then grew exponentially as Snape moved inside him. Harry wasn't sure how this had happened, but it was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt. And it just got better. Each time Snape hit that spot, it felt like magic striking through him. And he never wanted it to end.

But it did.

Harry hung suspended for a moment, and then crashed down, into the ecstasy. He cried out as he came, calling Snape's name. Begging for more, begging for it to go on just a second or two longer.

At some point a million or so years later, or maybe it was just a few minutes, Harry opened his eyes and looked up at Snape. "Yeah, that would be why."

"For once, I agree with you." Snape gathered him close. "We'll speak more in the morning."

Harry was too exhausted to argue. Tomorrow would be soon enough to discuss any of this. "Fine. G'night."

Snape kissed his hair.

After a few minutes, Harry heard a soft snore.

For a long time Harry lay there, trying to fall asleep, his mind refusing to give into it. He went over the events of the evening.

One thing was certain, Snape...no....he should think of him as Severus now. Harry snorted. He'd always be Snape to him, even if he called him Severus to his face, which he would from now on.

Whatever Harry called him, Snape had made love to him with such passion and tenderness, that even Harry couldn't have missed the emotions in his touch. And his response to that also said a lot about how he felt about Snape. How had he missed it? Of course, he hadn't really thought about it before. Now that he had, it was pretty clear there was something major between them.

What were they going to do about it?

An hour later, with no answer, Harry gave up for the moment, and eased out of bed. Still asleep, Snape's hand reached across the bed, as if looking for something, but that probably didn't mean anything.

Harry found Snape's dressing gown and put it on. It smelled like Snape and Harry found that...comforting, for some reason. And no, he was not going to think about the reasons any more.

Downstairs, Harry looked around the sitting room. He hadn't had a chance to do more than glance about when he got here. The room was surprisingly inviting. He perused the bookcases.

He settled into a comfortable chair with a book he'd chosen from the bookcase, but he couldn't concentrate well enough to read it.

For a while, he just stared into the empty fireplace. He wasn't cold enough to light it, and he wasn't sure he had the presumption. It was Snape's house. They had survived this long by abiding by Wizarding social standards. He wasn't going to violate that now, not without explicit leave to do so.

Of course, things had changed between them. Harry was glad of it. If he'd never thought of Snape in the role of his first lover, well, it turned out Snape had risen to the challenge.

Harry winced at the pun.

A noise on the stairs made him look up. Snape was coming down wearing a gray nightshirt that was worn practically translucent in places. Harry felt a nearly overwhelming desire to slide his hands over it, just to see how soft the faded material was and how hard Snape was underneath it.

"Couldn't sleep?" Snape's tone was soft, inquiring. As if he cared one way or another. Harry supposed that he did. He'd touched Harry like he cared.

And Harry wanted that. Wanted someone...no, not just someone, Snape. He wanted Snape touching him like that. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"I appreciate that." Snape sat down beside him.

Harry leaned into him. It felt good, warm, and nice. "Um...what's going on here?" He shouldn't ask that, he knew he shouldn't, but he had to know. It seemed far too important to just let it go.

Snape looked uncharacteristically nervous. As if he didn't know either. "What would you like it to be?"

"I don't know." But Harry was lying. And he suspected that Snape knew it, too. He took a breath. "I mean, I didn't come over here expecting this to happen. But I'm not upset that it did. I mean, wow." Harry could not believe he was blushing again, or that Snape was smiling at him with an indulgent little smile on his face.

"I'm pleased you enjoyed yourself." Snape took Harry's hand and held it. "Do you think you'll want to try it again?"

"Oh, yeah." Harry smiled and leaned up and kissed him. "Maybe I could try it the other way, too?"

Snape's smile became even more indulgent, maybe even a bit eager. "I'm not averse to that."

"Really?" Harry didn't understand why he found that so amazing, but then there were a lot of things about Snape that had surprised him.

Snape put a hand on Harry's cheek and nuzzled his face into Harry's neck. Harry slid a hand down Snape's chest to his thigh, enjoying the feel of firm muscle under his hands. His hand found its way under the soft nightshirt, looking for bare flesh.

With a chuckle, Snape pulled back a bit. "Perhaps not right at this moment."

"Oh." Harry laughed, nervously, pulling back a bit. "Okay. I guess...." Snape probably didn't want him to touch him outside of bed.

Tilting his head, Snape looked hard at him. And then, unbelievably, he moved closer, sliding his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Relax, Harry. I like touching you. I like it when you touch me."

"You don't usually call me that." And Harry found that he very much liked the sound of his name on Snape's lips. He very much liked the feel of Snape's hand on his skin, even if they weren't trying to arouse him.

"I don't usually make love to you, either. But I do think I could get used to both. If you'd like?"

"I would like that." Harry snuggled into his side and sighed in contentment. It felt so right to be held by Snape. "So...I've decided to go to the dinner next week with you."

"You don't say. I wouldn't have known that from your actions tonight." Snape kissed him fully on the mouth.

Harry sighed into the kiss. "Just making sure."

\--finis

03/03/06-4/14/06


End file.
